


The Strongest Magic of All

by Sakharov



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakharov/pseuds/Sakharov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin returns to the Dark Castle grievously wounded by a poisoned arrow and the only magic strong enough to counteract the poison is True Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle sat at the head of the great table in the dining hall of the Dark Castle, tapping her fingers idly against the wood. She frowned to herself. Rumplestiltskin had been gone for several days, which was unusual. 

Not that she kept track of his movements. Or that he had any obligation to confide in her. Not that their relationship had progressed any further than uneasy friendship – their relations were more than that of master and servant, and sometimes it seemed they were maybe more than friends, but other times she was reminded all too well just what he was capable of as the Dark One. But she refused to believe the darkness had taken him completely. Little things, like the way he would smile at her, or when he showed her the library in the castle, or the conversations they would sometimes have, or the roses he would pick for her, led her to believe there was still good in him. 

Belle shook her head. That was neither here nor there. Why should she care if he ever returned? She was his prisoner, after all. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter - winter was approaching and it seemed likely it would snow that night. The castle was warmer when he was there, but of course that was because he could light fires much more effectively than she could, not for any other reason. With a wave of his hand, he could have a large fire roaring in the hearth, and the results of her attempts at fire-starting were not much in comparison. 

She got up to pace around the dining room, in part to channel her nervous energy and to try to stay warm. It was very quiet in the castle. Was it always that way though, and when Rumplestiltskin was around she just never noticed? She cocked her head – were those hoof beats on the cobblestones in front of the castle? That would be strange… visitors to the Dark Castle were few and far-between and Rumplestiltskin used magic to get where he was going. But the neigh proved her suspicions correct that it was indeed a horse, and she headed to the entrance hall to see who would be calling on the Dark One at the late hour.

The entrance hall was huge, with a soaring arched ceiling and there were flickering torches mounted on the wall. She had only made it about half way to the great oak doors when they banged open with a gust of cold wind. A figure in a black traveling cloak stumbled in, and only when the hood fell back did Belle see it was Rumplestiltskin. He looked awful – pale and drawn and with dark circles under his eyes. He took a few halting steps into the hall – limping very badly – before he sank to his knees with a groan of pain. Blood splashed onto the flagstones, and Belle saw that buried deep in his thigh was what looked like broken arrow shaft. 

He waved his hand at the wound, and dark red smoke covered it briefly, but when the magic faded the wound was still there. He tried again, but that time there was no smoke at all. 

Belle started towards him hurriedly, emotion building in her chest. 

“Rumplestiltskin-“ she said, her voice full of concern, but when she was a few paces away he finally pulled his head up and looked at her, and the look he gave her stopped her. There was pain and anger and darkness in his eyes, and a touch of insanity too. This wasn’t the Rumple she knew. 

“Get out,” he rasped, his voice low and menacing and full of hate.

She backed up until she stood against the wall, her heart pounding. She was scared, scared for him and of him. She hadn’t been afraid of him in a long time, but the man in front of her wasn’t the man she’d grown to know and care about. 

He stood up and lurched towards the opposite wall. He leaned heavily on it for support, blood pooling on the floor, and they stared at each other for a long moment, the only sounds his rasping breaths and the crackling of the torchlight. 

“Go,” he snarled at last. “You can leave. Your debt to me is fulfilled. You owe me nothing. Get out. There’s a horse in the courtyard. Go home.” 

Butt it was the snarl of a dying animal, one that wishes to be alone for the end and for the world not to witness its final moments, but Belle wasn't going to leave him in such a state. 

“No, Rumple, I won’t go. I don’t want to leave you-“ Belle tried to get the worlds out, feeling like her heart was breaking, but his harsh “Get out and leave me be” had so much venom that she instinctively stepped toward the door. 

“I want to help! I’m here for-“

“Go! I don’t need anyone’s help. I don’t want anyone’s help. Let me die in peace.” His growl seemed almost inhuman, and there was madness sparkling in his eyes.

She slipped out the front doors quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. 

There was a black horse standing nervously in the courtyard, and Belle walked slowly toward it, grabbing the trailing reins. The wind was picking up, and as a branch cracked nearby, the horse shied and tried to rear. Belle held on to the reins and stroked its nose, talking to it softly to try to calm it and herself. 

“Easy there, easy. I’ve always liked horses, and you’re especially handsome. You’re going to be ok. I… I just don’t know what to do. Am I crazy?” The horse snorted. “I know I should jump at the chance to escape, but it doesn’t seem like an escape. It seems like running away. I'm his prisoner, but lately, this" - she motioned at the castle - "hasn't felt like a prison. I can’t just leave him. He's not a monster. I would always regret it. I think I care about him, I really do.” But is caring the extent of your feelings toward him asked a snide voice in her head that she tried to push away. “He can’t be dying… but if he is, I’m not going to let him – she almost couldn’t say it – “die alone. I have to at least let him know that there’s someone who cares about him. And with all the books in the castle, all the magic, surely there’s something that can be done. I have to at least try.”

Feeling rather numb, heart still beating fast, she hardly noticed that it had started to snow. She glanced up at the castle and then back at the horse. “Let’s get you taken care of, and then I’m going back in there. Maybe if I give him a little time, he’ll be more amenable to help.” The horse nickered in seeming agreement, and walked amicably with her towards the stables.


	2. Chapter 2

After getting the horse squared away in the stables Belle went back into the castle. She stopped in the kitchen to get warm water, medicinal herbs, and clean linen, and then, with a deep breath, went back to the entrance hall.

But Rumplestiltskin wasn’t there.

Frowning, Belle took down a torch and walked over to where he had been standing. There was blood on the wall and the floor leading toward the great curved staircase at the end of the hall. Feeling a bit queasy, Belle followed the blood trail up the stairs and into the west wing of the castle, a part she had never been in. She was increasingly uneasy… wasn’t the Dark One immortal? What could have done this to him?

The blood trail ended at a set of impressive oak doors, which stood ajar. Belle felt her resolve wavering as she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was probably his bedroom. She reached out to push open the door, but paused. Could she really do this? Was she really going to do this? Since when had he meant so much to her? Shaking her head, as she could think about such thoughts later, she gently pushed open the door. Any awkwardness about her going into his bed chamber could wait until he got better… if he got better.

There was a fire in the fireplace on one wall, and the fire cast enough light to illuminate the room. Rumplestiltskin was sitting on the floor, his back against a large bed. His head was bowed, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. From the blood on his hands and the floor, it looked like he had been able to remove the arrow shaft but it had cost him.

Belle started tentatively toward him, but stopped as he raised his head to look at her, wary of what his reaction might be. But his eyes were dull and unfocused, his face flushed with fever, and when he spoke his voice was soft, hoarse, strained with pain but without its former harshness.

“You came back. You shouldn’t have. Why…” He trailed off, sounding puzzled.

The change in his character scared her most of all. It seemed that as the poison and fever worked their way through him, the fight went out of him.

“Rumple…” she said quietly, slowly walking toward him, using the same tone of voice that she had when talking to the horse. “I’m here. I did come back. Let me help you. What happened?”

She knelt next to him, and when he didn’t object, she began to cut away the pant leg. He shivered when she touched him, but whether it was because of the pain or her touch, she wasn’t sure. As she began to clean the wound, he began to talk. His voice was light, disconnected, almost as if he were drunk.

“The arrowhead was poisoned and the arrow was cursed so that it wouldn’t miss its target. That son of a bitch. That coward. He knew he couldn’t keep up his terms of the deal. He shouldn’t have made it in the first place. But poison… the weapon of the weak…”

Belle finished bandaging the wound. At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“What poison is it?” she asked. “I can try to find the anecdote. With all the books, surely there’s something…”

He laughed at that, seeming almost for a second like his old self before he broke off, grimacing with pain. “It’s called night thorn. It’s not from our world. There’s no cure for it, not for me, dearie, not in this life.” His tone was self-deprecating and mocking, but for a moment, as their eyes met, she saw in his a great sadness before he looked down.

Her heart went out to him. She helped him into bed, trying to arrange the pillows so he could be comfortable. He didn’t say anything, but his clenched jaw gave away how much pain he was in.

“I could get you water or tea or something to eat,” she offered, feeling rather lame considering she what she could get him wasn’t much.

“Just water would be lovely. Thank you.” His voice was almost gentle.

Belle hurried to get him cold water, but by the time she got back, he had fallen asleep. His breaths were ragged, but at least he was breathing. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and watched him sleep. Perhaps it was the firelight, but his face seemed gentler in sleep, the lines softer. She felt her chest fill with emotion and tears pricked her eyes as she realized that she really would be devastated if he were to die. Almost without thinking, she reached out to push back some of his hair and let her fingers trail over his forehead and trace his jawline. His skin was softer than she expected and hot with fever. He shifted in his sleep and moaned slightly and she quickly drew her hand away.

Heart beating a little too quickly, she got up and made her way quietly to the door, glancing back at him once before she slipped out of the room and made her way to the library. She was determined to find a cure. The library was quite large, but Belle had become quite familiar with it in her months in the Dark Castle. She knew there was a section on dark magic and curses, and she decided to start there. She read frantically, looing through books and scrolls and setting them aside. The pile of read books on the table grew as the number of books on the shelves dwindled, but still she found nothing.

As the early morning sun crept through the windows, she pulled out a small, black leather bound book that had been hidden behind an anthology on the uses of poisonous mushrooms in curse creation. As she opened the book, she gasped – on the title page, in spiky black writing, were the words Incurable Poisons. Frantically she flipped through it, and, near the back, was night thorn. Scarcely able to believe she had found it, she quickly read the section, heart sinking as the book only confirmed what Rumple had said – that there was no anecdote, that the poison was stronger than any magic.

But, scribbled in the margins, were the almost incomprehensible words:

_true love’s kiss true love the strongest magic of all true love can counteract the poison_


	3. Chapter 3

Belle felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. She sank to the floor, trying to breathe, still holding the book, continuing to stare at those words. _True love true love true love true love._

He wasn’t going to get better. There wasn’t a cure.

Or rather, there was, but not one she could provide. Or could she?

No. No. No. Not at all. What was she thinking?

Once the thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t shake it. But of course she wasn’t in love with him– the feelings she felt for Rumplestiltskin weren’t love. Or were they?

In the past twenty-four hours she had acknowledged to herself she cared a great deal about him. But did she love him? He was the Dark One.

And yet, if she didn’t have those feelings for him, why were those words affecting her so?

Belle put her head in her hands as she realized that maybe she did love him. But could he love her? She took a deep breath and stood up, shaking only slightly, to go back up to his room, to see if love really could conquer all.

As she pushed open the bedroom door, she thought for one horrible moment she was too late, but then she saw his chest rising ever so slightly as he breathed. She slowly walked to his bedside. He seemed paler, the fever flush more evident in his cheeks and his breathing was shallower. If she kissed him and nothing happened, at least he would probably never know. But if something did happen, that would mean… that he loved her too. She felt like she couldn’t quite breathe right. What would happen then? Would they, could they have a life together?

If he did wake up, they would figure it out, she thought. True love always found a way.

She gently took his face in her hands and run her thumb over his cheek. Scarcely believing what she was about to do, Belle lowered her face until it was very close to his.

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.

And then she kissed him, thinking how right it felt to press her lips against his. There was a pulse of energy and she scrambled back.

Did that mean…it had worked? She looked at his face. The fever flush had faded and his breathing had deepened into that of someone sleeping. She tentatively stroked his cheek, and his skin was warm, but not hot. It seemed the kiss just counteracted the poison, but not the wound, and he had lost a lot of blood. She bit her lip – hopefully when he woke up he could use his magic to heal himself.

He was going to wake up. He was going to wake up because… he loved her too. Her heart sped up, and all of a sudden she was afraid. How would he react? How would this work? Could it work? She realized she didn’t want to be there when he woke up. She would go to the library, yes, to put away all the books that she had strewn around, and he could come find her.

She quickly backed out of the room and returned to the library. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the piles of books she would have to re-order and put back on the shelves. A wave of tiredness hit her – she had been up all night – and she decided to sit for a moment in one of the armchairs by the fire. She would nap briefly, and then put the books away.

But she fell asleep longer than she had planned to, and she woke to the creak of the library door opening.

Rumplestiltskin stood in the doorway, still pale, but looking considerably better.

“Belle,” he said softly, his voice the gentlest she had ever heard.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle scrambled to her feet, suddenly wide awake, fear intermingling with hope in her chest. She gripped the back of the chair tightly and stood watching him.

“Rumple,” she said quietly, not daring to hope.

He remained in the doorway, watching her intently, but not coming closer.

“You’re…you’re ok,” she said when he remained silent, allowing herself a small smile, but not sure what to say or how to proceed. 

Rumplestiltskin walked toward her slowly, almost cautiously, as if waiting for her to tell him not to. Although he moved slowly, he did not limp. Belle’s heart raced as he came closer and stopped in front of her. She felt a swooping sensation in her stomach as she looked up at his face. He was smiling and his eyes were light, free of darkness or anger. It was as if she was seeing the real Rumple, without the persona of the Dark One he always had on.

“Aye,” he said. “You figured out the cure.”

She cocked her head at him. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I did, but I didn’t dare to hope that you might feel the same way.”

They stood close for a long moment, standing very close to each-other but not moving, each looking at the other’s face, both smiling.

He quirked an eyebrow mischievously. “It seems dearie, that I owe you a kiss.” His voice was low and sexy and sent shivers down Belle’s spine.

She raised an eyebrow back at him. “I think,” she said, more bravely than she felt, her voice scarce above a whisper, “you might owe me more than that.”

He slowly raised his hands to hold her face. His hands were warm and soft, and she shivered at his touch but took a tiny step closer.

He brought his mouth to meet hers, and the kiss was gentle, but Belle felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She tentatively put her hands on his chest, running her thumb over the lapel of his jacket.

“I love you, Belle,” he murmured. 

“And I love you, Rumple,” she murmured back. 

She moved to kiss him again and his mouth found hers halfway and she was lost in the taste of him as their tongues met. She wasn’t sure if he nudged her or she pulled him, but her back was against the wall, his knee between her legs, and the kisses grew harder, more demanding. His hands moved down to her waist, ghosting along her sides, and she shivered at his touch and wanted more, but then he broke the kiss and backed away, refusing to meet her eyes. She was left leaning against the bookshelves for support, heart racing, breathing hard.

Rumplestiltskin backed away and turned his back on her. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He loved Belle, so much, but the love ran up against the store of anger and darkness that had been building since he became the Dark One. The desire for revenge was strong and threatened to overpower everything else.

He took a deep breath. He was so sorely tempted to turn back to Belle and apologize and continue to kiss her and let the light feeling in his chest push the darkness back. Maybe with time he could push those feelings away entirely. That path could, possibly, lead to a happy ending.

But, he thought, and his face twisted into a scowl, villains don’t get happy endings. And being the Dark One meant being feared and respected, and that reputation had to be upheld. The man who tried to kill him would have to be made into an example, so that anyone else would think twice before trying to cross him. 

This – whatever this was – couldn’t, wouldn’t end well for him or Belle. He would have to show her just whom she had kissed. He closed his eyes, and reached for the persona of the Dark One and the coldness, hardness and anger that went with it. The darkness gave him a kind of strength, not courage per say, but something to lean on none the less. 

“Rumple?” Belle said uncertainly, worriedly. 

He turned, the mask of the Dark One firmly in place, eyes hard, mouth twisted into a sneer. She was still leaning against the bookshelf, her face still flushed, but when she saw his face a flash of fear passed over her face. His heart twisted at that – he hated that she was afraid of him – but he pushed down those feelings.

“If you’ll excuse me, dearie,” he drawled. “I have some business to attend to. A score to settle, if you will.”

“Rumple, no! It doesn’t have to be like this-“ she began, voice strong even though he could see the fear and concern in her eyes.

“Oh, but it does. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Everyone’s terrified of you already. Once he finds out you’re alive, the man who tried to kill you will probably flee to the other end of the earth to try to escape you. You don’t have to hurt people to maintain your reputation.” She spoke with so much conviction, that he reckoned she actually believed what she was saying. 

“You know nothing about my business,” he snapped. He made his voice intentionally cruel, but his heart ached at the look on her face – as though he had slapped her.

“I know enough about what you do” she said, a touch of defiance in her voice now, “to know that sometimes you help people. To know that you have good in you. To know that you don’t have to kill anyone to maintain your reputation.” 

“I also know,” she went on, less boldly than before, but still determinedly, “that I don’t care about your reputation. I know that, for better or for worse, I love you. But I also know that love won’t be enough for this to work.”

“Then this won’t work. You don’t know me. The darkness is part of who I am.” He made his voice harsh and sneering, even though his heart was breaking at the look on her face. He knew as soon as he said the words he had crossed a line there was no coming back from, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize and beg her forgiveness and try to win her back, but he didn’t. 

“Really, Rumpelstiltskin, really?” she shot back in a burst of anger, her eyes flashing. “After everything? You can be happy, you know. You just have to be brave enough to make the choice.”

“Don’t talk to me about being brave! My choices were made a long time ago,” he snarled.

Belle took a breath, and looked like she was gathering her courage. When she spoke it sounded as if she was fighting back tears. “If you can’t even try to change, if everything that happened really means so little to you, then I’m leaving. We have a chance to build a life together, but you have to at least try.”

She looked into his eyes for a long moment, her eyes imploring, asking him to reconsider, to try to push away the darkness. 

But he couldn’t, wouldn’t back down. Pride or stubbornness or too many years as the Dark One or his conviction that it could never work wouldn’t let him. 

“Then go,” he said, voice low and harsh. “Go and find your happy ending somewhere else. This could never have worked. I really am the monster everyone believes me to be.”

Belle walked slowly out of the library, head held high. At the door, she paused and looked back at him, giving him a chance to reconsider. 

“I don’t believe that, that you’re a monster,” she said quietly. 

But although he met her eyes, he said nothing, and she abruptly turned and left.

From the window he watched her run to the stable and get the horse, then mount up in the courtyard. She glanced back up at the castle before spurring the horse into a gallop and riding hard back down the road toward her father’s lands. 

The pain in his chest was deep, and he doubted it would ever truly cease. He watched as she vanished into the trees and slammed his fist into the wall. Pain shot though his hand as flesh collided with stone, and so he did it again and again, until his hand was bruised and bleeding. He raised his other hand to cast healing magic, but then lowered it. He would keep the pain. He sank to the floor, back against the wall, staring blankly ahead but not seeing, hot tears running down his face.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so awful to her? Even after all of that, she still didn’t think he was a monster. And yet he had still driven away the one person who loved him, and whom he loved in return, his only chance for happiness. He really was as terrible as everyone thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Belle rode hard through the night, and as the sun rose she reached the border between the Dark One’s lands and her father’s. 

At the crossroad, she paused and looked back the way she came. She felt empty inside, like she wanted to cry but wasn’t able to, and she couldn’t quite believe it was over. Had she left too quickly? Should she return and try to work it out? She so wanted to…she loved him… but no. She had some pride, after all, and he could come after her, if whatever they had together meant something to him. She had made it clear it meant something to her. He had made it seem like it didn’t, but she knew him well enough to know that the persona of darkness could be a front he put up to hide more tender emotions. Well, she thought, he can decide what’s more important, us being together, or being the Dark One. A small, sad voice in her head said it seemed like he had chosen. 

Blinking back tears, as she couldn’t fall apart in the middle of the woods, she turned to look down the road that would take her to her father’s castle. She wasn’t too surprised to realize she wasn’t too keen on going back there either. It hadn’t felt like home in a long while, ever since her mother died. But where else could she go? She had no money, no supplies, winter had arrived and brought with it a great deal of snow… All right, she decided. I’ll go back and see my father, but then I can always leave. I can go adventuring like I always wanted. Mind set, she turned toward the horse toward her father’s castle. 

Her father, Lord Maurice French, was not exactly an impressive man. He was Lord of a small holdfast and its surrounding lands, but it was situated in a rather unfortunate location. The Dark One’s lands bordered one side, the ogre marshes bordered another, and to the third was the larger kingdom to which the holdfast owed fealty. The rightful ruler of the kingdom had been forgotten by time, and its Stewards were currently administering it. 

The current Steward had given Maurice French the holdfast as a reward for his loyalty during an uprising. Not that Maurice French played any bold role in maintaining order; he was not a bold or brave man. He was weak and sniveling, with no sense of honor or scope of character and a fondness for gambling. 

The leaders of the provinces had tried to unite to get rid of the Steward, as the Steward and the men loyal to him grew rich off the land while those in the countryside did poorly, but the uprising had been brutally suppressed. Maurice French had pretended to support the revolt, only to betray the names of the leaders to the Steward. He had been given the holdfast as a thank-you, but it also underscored how little they thought of him. It was also fairly obvious to everyone but him that it was intended that he and the people of his holdfast be the first buffer should the ogres mass an attack. 

Belle’s homecoming was not what she had hoped, although, upon reflection, she didn’t know what to expect. She told them she escaped while the Dark One was away. Her father seemed happy to see her, but also uneasy, and everyone in the castle seemed afraid of her, and she would catch them whispering when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

The only place in the holdfast that felt at all like home was her room, which was the same as when she had left. The hand-carved chess set on the table, the quilt on the bed her mother had sewn, and all the books. It wasn’t until she was alone that night, getting ready for bed, that she realized with a flush of embarrassment what they all must have thought the Dark One wanted her for. Oh dear, she thought to herself, they’re never going to look at me the same, and it’s not as if I can tell anyone what actually happened. He might not have a lot of good in him, but he’s no monster. He had always treated her well, all things considered. Thinking about him, about the Dark Castle, which felt more like home than the holdfast ever had, brought tears to her eyes, and this time she couldn’t hold them back. 

She lay under her quilt and sobbed into her pillow. She wept for what was lost and for what might have been and for the rotten situation she currently found herself in. By the time the night sky began to lighten, she had cried herself out and lay under her blankets, feeling spent and sad. There was an ache in her chest.

In the weeks that followed, she spent most of her time in her room reading or out riding, to get away from everyone, or with her best friend Red. Red lived with her grandmother, who everyone just called Granny, in the village, and Granny owned the bookstore. Belle considered Red and Granny family, and she was closer to them than to her father. They were the only two who treated her normally, who didn’t act skittish or avoid eye contact, and so it was a relief to escape to their store. 

A few months after her arrival, she returned from riding to see different flags atop the holdfast’s turrets. As she rode closer, she made out the hound insignia of Gaston, the son of the Steward, and she frowned. 

Gaston was a bit older than she was, but as the Steward would make regular trips to the different parts of the kingdoms, she had seen more of him as she grew up than she cared for. She supposed he was handsome and on occasion charming, but to her that handsomeness was marred by his arrogance and boorishness. There was a cruelness in his face that never seemed to go away and there were whispered rumors of how he treated women. His passions were hunting and drinking, and so he and Belle never had much to talk about. 

Gaston was the type of man her father wanted to be like (although he failed miserably) and consequently always tried to impress. Belle grimaced – there would be the required formal dinner tonight to celebrate his visit, and a dinner which already would be unpleasant would be made significantly more so by the shadow of the Dark One that seemed to hang over her. 

As she walked the horse back to the stables, one of the grooms found her and told her her father was looking for her. As she made her ways to his rooms, she wondered what he could want. He had hardly spoken to her since she had returned and she hadn’t sought him out. Maybe he’ll tell me he doesn’t want me at the dinner, she thought hopefully, but she doubted she would be that lucky. 

She reached her father’s rooms and knocked, and at his “Enter!” went in. 

“Ah, Belle, do come in and sit down,” Maurice said as she entered. Always a nervous man, he seemed especially uneasy today.

Belle sat and crossed her arms and waited for him to talk. 

“I take it you’ve heard Gaston is here?” He finally broke the silence.

She nodded, and he continued. “It seems we owe him a great debt.”

Belle narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

“It seems,” her father continued, seeming to find the subject very uncomfortable and having difficulty getting his words out, “that, well, you said that the Dark One was gone for a period of time and you were able to escape. Well, it appears he never returned because Gaston was able to kill him.”

Belle felt a hot wave of anger course through her. It had been Gaston! Although he probably hadn’t even loosened the arrow, the coward. She was almost shaking with anger, and fought to keep her voice calm when she spoke.

“It’s a lie! The Dark One is alive. Gaston did not kill him. How dare he spread the rumor-“

“Belle, dear,” Maurice cut her off. “It’s not a rumor. He’s actually gone. He hasn’t been answering summons. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” He misinterpreted her barely suppressed trembling for fear. “Try, go on – Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin.”

Belle was dismayed at the blatant summons – what if the Dark One chose that moment to appear? But a minute passed and nothing happened.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Belle retorted, trying to figure out how to convince him that Rumplestiltskin was indeed alive, but without saying how she knew. 

“Without him appearing there’s nothing to contradict Gaston’s story, which his men have verified. Honestly Belle, I thought you would be thrilled to hear about this.” Maurice sounded annoyed now. 

When Belle didn’t say anything, he cleared his throat and continued. “That’s actually why he’s here. Well, sort of. He came here to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“What?!” Belle stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair. “I refuse-“

“I have already accepted for you,” Maurice interrupted coldly, the same cold that had allowed him to betray those who had trusted him all those years before. He could have a backbone with he stood to benefit greatly from the circumstances. “It’s a wonderful offer, better than any other you’re likely to get after-“ He broke off and color rose in his cheeks.

“You mean after I was the Dark One’s whore?” she snapped back, feeling nothing but contempt for the man before her, any pretext of respect or affection gone. 

Maurice’s eyes flashed at that, but he continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “It’s a good offer, an honor. He’ll rule the kingdom one day. And the holdfast is deeply indebted to the Steward – the past years have been unkind – and Gaston promised that with the marriage would come a forgiveness of all debts.”

The holdfast is only in debt because of your gambling, and because you don’t know how manage finances or really do anything right, thought Belle bitterly, but she stayed quiet.

He went on blithely, choosing not to notice her seething anger. “The marriage will be in a week. There will be a formal banquet tomorrow to celebrate.”

Belle mustered the last of her dignity and, with head held high, walked to the door.

As she pushed it open, Maurice spoke again. “Oh, and Belle, in case you get any ideas, the guards have orders not to let you in the stables. This will be much easier for everyone if you don’t fight it. Think of it as doing something good for the kingdom.”


	6. Chapter 6

Because dinner that night would not be a formal occasion, as the banquet would be the next day, Belle was able to excuse herself from attending. She didn’t trust herself to face Gaston and spend an evening listening to his boasts. He was always bragging, usually about hunting conquests, but it would be particularly unbearable to listen to him talking about killing Rumplestiltskin and their future marriage and refrain from slapping him. 

She slipped out of the castle late that night and was halfway to the village to see Red when it hit her, and she paused. If Gaston had been the one who had tried to kill Rumple, and he was still alive, that meant Rumple hadn’t gone after him, which was so very out of character that she felt a stab of fear. Was he ok? What if there were residual effects of the poison? As much as she wanted him to try to change, and not going after Gaston would be a big start, he had made it clear he had no intention of changing. She tried to assure herself he was fine, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason for why Gaston was still alive. 

Belle angrily kicked at the snow, feeling tears gather in her eyes. Why was she worrying about him? She had enough to worry about, and, as he had shown, he cared more about being the Dark One than about her. But thinking about him, wondering if he was ok, brought back the painful feelings she had been trying to burry since fleeing the Dark Castle.

Pulling her cloak more tightly around her against the winter chill, Belle half-ran the rest of the way into the village, trying to keep her emotions in check. She pounded on the door of the bookstore (Red and Granny lived above the store) and Red opened the door, looking as if she had been asleep.

“Belle, what-“ she asked with alarm as Belle collapsed into her arms, the tears coming. 

Red ushered her inside and sat her by the fireplace. As Belle tried to stop crying, Red rekindled a fire from the embers and brought her a cup of hot cocoa. With her friend’s arms around her and the fire casting a warm glow over the bookshelves she was so familiar with, Belle was able to calm down enough to tell Red about the marriage and how Gaston had supposedly killed Rumplestiltskin. Red was outraged about the planned wedding, but she snorted at the idea of the Dark One being dead.

Red stood up and paced in front of the fire, her eyes flashing.

“We’ll figure something out. You’re not marrying that brute.”

“I just…I don’t know…,” said Belle, watching the fire.

Red stopped her pacing to glare at her. “You better not tell me you’re buying the whole ‘you need to do it for the good of the kingdom’ ridiculousness! You’ve done more for the holdfast and the kingdom than anyone else – your father and the Steward included. Choosing to go with Rumplestiltskin was more than anyone could have asked of you. You stopped the ogre war.”

“I know the holdfast is only in the state it’s in because my father is an idiot,” said Belle. “I just won’t see you get hurt on my account for trying to help me. If I can’t get a horse, the only way to leave is on foot, and they’d find me before I got anywhere. And it’s winter, and so without supplies I couldn’t get far anyway. You have to promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

Red frowned and continued to pace. Then she paused, and turned to look at Belle with an odd look on her face. 

“Red, what is it?” asked Belle. Her friend could be strangely intuitive, picking up on things no one else noticed, and Belle suspected this was one of those times.

Red opened her mouth, then closed it, and seemed to be trying to think about the best way to ask what she wanted to ask. Finally she said softly, “The way you talk about the Dark One, and about Gaston’s boasts that he killed him… you didn’t escape, did you? He let you go.”

Belle didn’t say anything, but her face gave Red her answer. As Belle put her face in her hands, Red sat down next to her and put her arms around Belle. Belle rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and haltingly told her everything. 

As Belle finished, she shifted away from Red, and without looking at her, said quietly, “Please don’t judge me too harshly. I don’t-“

But Red interrupted her gently. “I’m not judging you at all. You can find good in anyone, so of course if there is goodness in the Dark One you would be the one to find it. I don’t think he’s completely bad – he helped Gran keep the bookstore after dad died when there were those in town who would have taken it. I don’t think you can divide the world into good and evil – things aren’t so black and white – that’s not how human nature is. Honestly, between Gaston and Rumplestiltskin, I’d say the former is the worse.”

Belle smiled tentatively at that, and looked gratefully at her friend. “Thank you, Red, for being here, for saying those things. It means so much more than I can ever say.”

Red smiled back at her. “I’ll always be here for you. Now we have to figure out how to get you and Rumplestiltskin back together!”

Belle winced. “I don’t know about that. We didn’t part on very good terms. I don’t want to be the one running back to him. I don’t even know if he’d come – he hasn’t been answering summons.”

“I think he would answer for you. Have you tried?”

“No…,” said Belle slowly. Catching sight of the look on Red’s face, she added quickly, “But you can’t contact him. If I do reach out to him for help, I’ll be the one to do it.”

Red grudgingly agreed and they left it at that. The talk moved on to other ways she Belle could escape from marrying Gaston, and although they came up with some far-fetched schemes, none seemed actually feasible. It was carefully left unsaid that the only option that had any potential was to contact Rumple. As morning arrived Belle reluctantly returned to the castle. 

***

The dinner the next night wasn’t quite as awful as Belle had feared. Although in the beginning Gaston was unbearable, talking about how he had ended the reign of terror of the Dark One, the talk soon moved on to other topics, like hunting. Belle realized no one expected her to contribute to the discussion – she was just supposed to smile and look pretty - so she was able to sit in peace, lost in her own thoughts.

She thought back to all the dinners she had shared with Rumplestiltskin in the Dark Castle. As their relationship had progressed to a sort of shaky friendship, they had started to eat together, and he had proved to be an excellent conversation partner. They would talk about books or poetry or the goings-on in the realm, and he valued what she had to say. Belle felt her stomach tighten and her smile was especially forced as she thought about the fact that if the marriage went through with Gaston, she would be treated like an accessory and no one would ever care what she thought. That was not at all the type of life she wanted – she had for so long dreamed of being a heroine, of riding off on adventures, of seeing the world. Her smile slid into a grimace. She would go see Red later that night, and they would come up with some plan, because she could not marry Gaston.

But later, as she tried to slip out of the castle, one of the guards on duty made to follow her. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said apologetically when he saw the scathing look on her face. “We have orders to follow you if you leave the castle. You can visit the village, but only with an escort.”

Belle gritted her teeth and returned the castle. She would be in enough trouble if she attempted to escape and was caught; she wasn’t going to drag Red into it. 

The days leading up to the wedding passed too quickly. Belle tried to stay in her room, seeking solace in her books and trying to think of an escape plan, but she couldn’t avoid the wedding preparations entirely. There was the dress to be fitted and flowers to be chosen and the castle to be cleaned and a banquet menu to be decided upon.

All too soon it was the night before the wedding. The Steward had arrived with his procession and there was a feast that night to celebrate his arrival. The only good thing about the festivities was that with all the drinking and carousing Belle was able to slip out unnoticed. 

By the time she returned to her room she was on the verge of panicking. She paced to try to burn off her nervous energy, but she just felt herself getting more and more wound up. There had to be a way out of this mess…there just had to be…

The night wore on and she tried to think of something, but she continued to discard every plan. There was suddenly a heavy knocking on her door, and before she could say “come in,” the door banged open and there was Gaston. 

He shut the door behind him and sauntered towards her, very drunk, with a leer on his face.

Belle scowled at him and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

He stopped very close to her and smirked. “Why, my dear Belle, my dear little future wife, that’s no way to talk to your husband-to-be and savior. I thought we should get to know one-another, considering we are to be wed tomorrow.”

“You’re no savior. He’s not dead, you know,” she snapped, anger flooding through her and pushing out any fear. 

An ugly look crossed Gaston’s face. “Enough of that kind of talk. The monster is dead. And you should be thanking me on bended knee.” And he stepped forward, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her in for a kiss.

Belle pulled away and the dress ripped. “Get out!” she spat. “Rumplestiltskin isn’t the monster, you are!”

“Insolent bitch!” Gaston said menacingly, his face darkening. “What, you would spread your legs for the Dark One but I’m not good enough for you?” And then he hit her, his fist colliding with the side of her face.

She stumbled but didn’t fall, and she hardly felt the pain through the anger. “You beast!” she snarled. “Do you really think my father will consent to the marriage now?”

A nasty grin crossed his face. “Who do you think will believe you?” he smirked. “I’ll say it was some stable boy you’ve been screwing to get over the Dark One’s passing. My father will believe it and yours was never strong enough to stand up for anything. Now, I suggest you comply, because this doesn’t have to be so unpleasant.”

But Belle just glared at him defiantly. “Never.”

“Little slut!” Gaston hit her again, and this time she fell, hitting the ground hard and tasting blood. He started to work on undoing his belt buckle, which proved difficult because of his level of intoxication. Belle looked around frantically for something to use a weapon, grabbing a heavy, leather-bound book that was by her bed, and scrambled to her feet. 

She swung the book at his head, and because his hands were otherwise engaged, he couldn’t block it, and it hit him square in the face. There was the crunch of bone and he gave a bellow of pain, his hands shooting up to hold his nose. 

“Bitch!” he roared. “I’ll show you – you just wait. I’ll teach you how to be an obedient wife.” And he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Belle bolted he door behind him. She shakily walked over the window and pushed it open, putting her elbows on the windowsill. Her face was throbbing but the cold air felt good. She put a hand to her face to try to assess the damage and winced when she felt the wetness of blood. She would have to try to wash up as best she could and figure out what makeup would be best to try to cover it up.

It was a cold clear night, and she could clearly trace stars in the night sky and the moon cast light over the fields and snow and village. As she looked out over the view, she realized Gaston was right. Her father would never fight for her. He never had. There was no one she could turn to, except Red, and Red couldn’t help. Well… maybe there was one other person... If he would answer…

Taking a deep breath, she said, very softly, voice trembling slightly, “Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin.”

Nothing happened.

Sighing, she continued to talk, hoping that he would somehow hear. 

“You were my last hope. I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to be married tomorrow, but I can’t go through with it. I think he’ll end up killing me.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we, dearie?” drawled a familiar voice behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle spun around.

There was Rumplestiltskin, feet propped up on the table, arms crossed, chair rocked back. His expression was guarded and in the darkness she couldn’t read it. 

Belle wanted to run into his arms, but she stayed by the window, watching him. She had no idea how to proceed, how to act with him – she had told him she loved him, he had said he loved her, but then things had gotten so ugly... But he was here now! 

Rumple raised an eyebrow. “So, dearie,” he said, using the sing-song voice she knew he used when trying to act like he didn’t care, “who is it you’re to wed?”

Belle swallowed, suddenly afraid to tell him. “Gaston,” she said quietly.

There was a bang as all four chair legs hit the ground. He sat up straight, face twisted, hands flat on the table top. “What?” he rasped. “How?”

“I don’t know…my father…” she trailed off and took a few steps toward him. Without realizing it, she entered the circle of light cast by the fire and Rumple’s face whitened in anger when he caught sight of her.

In an instant he had stood up and was next to her, jaw clenched. “He did this to you?”

She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat. 

He raised a hand, but Belle reflexively flinched and he snatched his hand away. She saw a look of pain cross his face that she had reacted so, and she quickly said, “I’m sorry Rumple, it’s not you-“ but he cut her off.

“Belle, you have nothing to apologize to me for. I just wanted to-“ he shook his head. “Can I heal you?”

She nodded, and he raised his hand again. Ever so gently he stroked her cheek. There was a tingle, but then the pain was gone. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her breath catching as she looked into his face. He was furious, his eyes dark, but as he looked back at her his expression softened. There, under the anger, was the man she still loved very much.

She almost took a step towards him but then she remembered what had happened the last time they had stood so close together, and she blushed and looked away. Rumple must have been thinking along the same lines, because he looked away at the same time and backed away to stand behind the table. 

When he looked back at her, he looked very much the part of the Dark One, his face hardened again into an angry scowl and a look in his eyes that frightened Belle, even though it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“Rumple…” she said quietly, moving towards him, worried he would go after Gaston right that moment and not sure if she could bear it if he left so suddenly. 

“The wedding tomorrow will not happen,” he said coldly through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing, and Belle stopped so that the table stood between them. She wished she knew what to say to ease the darkness in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to make it not happen,” said Belle very quietly. 

Rumple didn’t respond at once, but stood, deep in thought, his eyes on the chess set, fingers tapping the table. 

She watched him – his hands were elegant, his fingers long and tapered, and his face, maybe due to the flickering firelight or the concentration, had lost the harsh edge. Belle felt a yearning rise in her chest…she so wanted to ask him if he could just take her back to the Dark Castle with him, if they could try to start over… But no. If he were to ask, she would say yes, but she wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it. She had some shred of pride left. 

He picked up one of the white rooks from the chessboard, and tossed it in the air and caught it. He then looked up at her and smiled, but it was a smile with no warmth. Moving around the table, he walked up to her and she felt her heart rate increase. He handed the chess piece to her, and as she took it their fingers touched and she suppressed a shiver.

Looking at the chess piece she saw it was no longer just a white castle tower; now it was a white castle tower with a white dragon curled around it, wings unfolded, teeth bared at an unknown enemy. 

“I think, dearie,” he said softly, “I have a plan that will solve several problems.”

“What are you thinking?” she asked in what she hoped was a normal tone. A dragon could be rather problematic, she thought. But, on second thought, she wasn’t feeling too hospitable towards anyone in the holdfast, so if he was going to burn the place down, she might not object too strongly…

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow but I am confident it will be a suitable solution,” he answered with that quirky little grin she was so fond of, and then, giving a little bow, he took a step back, as if preparing to depart.

“Wait!” she said, fighting to stay calm. “Are you leaving?” Without thinking, she put a hand out – to what? Grab his shirt? Grab his arm?

He smoothly intercepted her hand and held it in one of his own. He gently brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles and she had to fight to resist moving closer to him. “My dear,” he said, his voice that low timbre that she had thought about when she allowed herself such thoughts. “You should get some rest. I’ll return tomorrow. I promise you that. The wedding will not happen.” His eyes were sorrowful, as if he didn’t want to leave anymore than she wanted him to leave. 

“Will you – I mean – I don’t want you to go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, scared of his response but determined to ask anyway. “Will you stay with me?”

He dropped her hand and took a step back. Color rose in his cheeks and his expression became guarded again. 

“I could,” he said finally, his voice strangled. “If that’s what you want.”

“I would like that, very much,” she said softly, glad the darkness was hiding her smile how such simple words could unnerve the Dark One. She backed up to the bed and sat down. 

Rumple shrugged off his coat and draped it over a chair. He then took off his boots and slowly walked around to the other side of the bed. He somewhat awkwardly sat, keeping distance between them. 

Belle beamed at him and he smiled tentatively back at her and she scooted closer, closing the gap between them. She leaned into him and although he stiffened initially at her touch, he put his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. In his arms she felt safe and happy for the first time since leaving the Dark Castle. 

“Thank you, for being here,” she murmured into his chest. 

“Of course, dearie,” he murmured back, so quietly she almost missed it. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Blinking back sudden tears, she snuggled deeper into him and he kissed the top of her head.

She woke to Rumple stroking her back. “Belle,” he said gently. “You should wake up. It’s almost morning, and the wedding preparations will begin soon.”

She sleepily opened her eyes. Sometime during the night they had slid from more of a sitting position to a laying one, and she realized she was partially on top of him, her head on his chest, an arm and a leg draped over him. His shirt had ridden up and her hand was on the soft warm skin of his stomach. As she untangled herself from him and slid her arm away, she ghosted her fingers over the exposed skin.

He made a small sound in the back of his throat and his eyes darkened with desire. She felt her stomach drop as his eyes met hers, but then he quickly scrambled out of bed. 

He pulled on his boots and coat, and was in the process of buttoning it as she approached. She saw that he was having trouble because his hands were shaking, and she reached out to put her hand on his.

“Let me,” she said softly.

His hands fell to his sides and his eyes never left her face as she finished the buttons. She finished with the top one but let her hands linger on his chest. He brought his hands up to cup her face and she leaned into his touch. 

“Belle,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, his eyes soft and slightly sad, “I have to go and your wedding preparations must proceed for we must keep up appearances. I will return, I promise, and the wedding will not happen. I...I can solve several problems, but what I can do for you is give you a choice, and choice is truly a special thing. Think through your decision well, and make sure it is the best for you. That is all I want, what is best for you.”

“Rumple, what…?” she began, confused, but then he kissed her, a hard, passionate kiss, and then he was gone in a swirl of red smoke, leaving her with his promise to return and the feel of his lips against hers.


	8. Chapter 8

Belle sat on her bed, her fingers on her lips, until a banging on her door shook her out of her daze.

Reluctantly she got up and unbolted the door, and Red burst in and swept her friend up in an embrace. She pulled back and looked at Belle with concern.

“Belle! I told them I was helping you get ready and they let me in. What’s going on? Why haven’t I seen you-”

“It’s ok! They wouldn’t let me out of the castle without an escort, but I think things are going to be all right. I… I called Rumplestiltskin last night.” Belle avoided Red’s gaze and hoped she wasn’t blushing.

But if she was Red ignored it. “Excellent! So what’s his big plan? There’s no way this wedding is going forward!”

Belle handed her the dragon chess piece. “He didn’t tell me what he was going to do, but he did promise to return today.”

“I wonder what …” said Red, looking thoughtfully at the dragon. She looked up at Belle and grinned. “The Dark One to the rescue…that will make for quite the story.” 

“Haha, indeed it will,” Belle smiled back. 

She had just enough time to tell Red what had transpired since they had spoken last – “if Rumplestiltskin doesn’t kill Gaston I will,” Red growled – before the maids who were actually supposed to help her with getting ready came in and the wedding preparations began in earnest. 

There was hair and makeup to be done, but that seemed to pass too quickly and too soon they were heading to the chapel. The square outside was full of people, including important lords of the land, and it was more bustling than she had ever seen it, but she supposed the day was meant to be a special one after all. Gaston would be Steward one day, and so he would one day be the most powerful man in the land.

Across the square she saw Gaston and smirked when their gaze met. His face didn’t look so good with bruises around his nose and dark circles under his eyes. Ha! she thought, and tried to convey her contempt towards him with her gaze. I wonder what story he came up with, she wondered. He tried to glare back, but there was a definite trace of fear in his look, which she presumed came from the fact that her face was completely healed. That’s right, be afraid, she thought. Rumplestiltskin is coming, and he won’t be happy to see you.

Music began and the wedding guests filed into the chapel. At the right time, Belle let Maurice walk her down the aisle, and she was left standing next to Gaston. She tried to stay calm and hold her head high, but she was growing increasingly nervous. Where was Rumplestiltskin? She wondered at the fact that no one seemed to notice (or maybe it was that no one cared) that she and Gaston weren’t exactly the picture of a happy couple, but were rather glaring at each other across the aisle. 

The ceremony began and as it proceeded Belle’s heart sank lower. What if he actually didn’t come? What would she do? The priest asked if there were any present who had an objection to the union of Belle and Gaston. 

“I do!” came a familiar voice. “I object.” 

The chapel doors banged open, and there stood Rumplestiltskin. Gasps and murmurs swept through the hall, and most of the wedding guests looked alarmed and horrified.

Belle’s heart leapt at the sight of him and she had to stop herself from smiling outright. He had come! He had actually come! 

Rumplestiltskin sauntered down the aisle, a cold smile on his face, his eyes glittering, seeming to enjoy the reactions his appearance was causing. 

He stopped about half-way, and said, “I have several objections, perhaps most of all with the groom.” His voice was soft but deadly, and his eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Gaston.

Gaston had gone very white and there was definite fear in his eyes now. 

“You,” he said, trying to sound defiant. “You’re… alive.” He couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say other than the obvious. 

“What an impressive observation, dearie,” sneered Rumplestiltskin. “You really are a smart one.” He looked around the chapel and raised his voice, his tone cold and harsh. “It will take more than an arrow to get rid of the Dark One. You would all do well to remember that.”

“This is my wedding,” said Gaston, taking a step forward. “What do you want? You have no business here.”

Rumple giggled. “Right. I’ll just be my way then. Except I think not.” And his eyes hardened and his tone grew menacing. “I’ve had enough of you, you arrogant little prat. I should kill you and do everyone a favor, but I will offer you your life, which is more than you deserve. Leave this kingdom, run away to the edge of this world, and never come back. If I even hear the whisper of your name, I will hunt you down and make you wish for an easy death.”

“This is not fair. You and your magic. Without your magic you’d be nothing,” spat Gaston in a last attempt at something.

“You think I need magic to best you? Very well. I’m always one for making deals. You and I, swords, now, no magic. You win, and I leave for good, I win and…well, let’s just say it won’t be good for you.” And with a flourish Rumple conjured a sword and mock-saluted Gaston. 

Belle bit her lip as Gaston grabbed a sword from one of the guards and ran at Rumple, causing wedding guests to scatter. Surly Rumple knew what he was doing, but still… this was what Gaston was good at… But her fears proved unfounded.

Gaston was like a bull, all strength and fury, but not that fast or graceful. Rumple easily dodged his charges and parried his wild sword swings. Belle reckoned that he might even be having a bit of fun, poking and teasing at Gaston and making the other man look clumsy. Gaston grew more desperate, and his sword thrusts grew more erratic. Finally Rumple seemed to tire of the game and with a clever bit of sword-work sent the other man’s sword clattering on the stone floor and brought his own sword to Gaston’s throat. 

“Please don’t kill me,” gasped Gaston, dropping to his knees. “I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for everything. Please…” 

“Stop begging,” said Rumple distastefully. “My other offer still stands. Go, run far away. I never want to hear your name again, or you’ll wish you had died today.”

“Thank you, I-“ Gaston began but Rumple cut him off. “Just get out, before I change my mind.”

Gaston staggered to his feet and stumbled out the doors. The chapel was silent. 

Rumple turned his gaze to the Steward and the other high lords in the first few pews. “Now, I said I had more than one objection. I’ve grown tired of having you as neighbors and you’ve done a poor job of running this kingdom. I think the time has come for you to step down and for the true king to return.”

The Steward stood, looking uncertain but determined. “This is my kingdom. There is no other-“

“Wrong,” Rumple interjected coldly. “You forget your place. Arthur! Do come in.”

A young man entered the chapel and walked to stand beside Rumplestiltskin. He had brown hair and green eyes and though his clothes were worn, he had a regal air about him. In his hands he held a sword in its leather scabbard.

“I give you Arthur Pendragon, true king of this kingdom,” said Rumple. “And if anyone has doubts, he has pulled the sword from the stone. Show them.”

Amid renewed murmurs, the young man pulled the sword from the scabbard and held it up. Belle took a step forward, and she wasn’t the only one to try to get a better look. There had long been the legend that somewhere in the kingdom was such a test that only the true king could accomplish, but she had always thought it was just a story. 

But on the sword were the words from the legend – “Take me up” on one side of the blade, and “Cast me away” on the other, and there was something about the sword, and the man who held it, that left one convinced. 

“I suggest you and your coterie disappear from these lands,” said Rumple, glaring at the Steward. “I do not want to hear your names again. And with that, I think my work here is done.”

He gave an elaborate bow, and when he straightened, his eyes flickered to Belle’s, ever so briefly. He gave a small smile, his eyes sad, and blew her a kiss – her heart clenched - before disappearing in a puff of smoke. 

Belle remained on the dais, watching rather bemusedly as things dissolved rather chaotically. The Steward was talking to those lords loyal to him, and others were approaching Arthur. 

Red slipped up to stand by Belle and put her arm around her.

“Hey,” Red said softly. “Well, that was certainly a good show. But you’re still here.”

“Rumple always was one for theatrics,” said Belle, leaning into her friend, still holding the rose, not quite believing it was all over and the marriage wasn’t going to happen.

She watched Arthur standing in the middle of the chaotic scene, and even though he was young, there was something about him that commanded loyalty and inspired confidence. He would have his hands full righting the kingdom after the Steward’s rule, but if anyone was up for it, it seemed it was him. At one point he glanced in her direction and smiled at her.

“I think I understand the choice Rumple gave me,” she said at last. “But silly man. My choice was already made."


	9. Chapter 9

Rumplestiltskin stood by one of the windows in the dining room of the Dark Castle, looking out at the snow-covered mountains. The Dark Castle’s mountainous location afforded spectacular views, but as he had lived there for several centuries, the view was nothing new to him.

He watched snowflakes drift lazily to earth and tried to pull himself together. It had been several weeks since the wedding and she hadn’t come back. What had he expected? He had given her the choice. Why would she have chosen him? He closed his eyes; he had allowed himself to hope, but he should have known better. Hope led to pain and he wasn’t someone who got happy endings. He would have to come to terms with that and content himself with the fact that she was happy, and that was truly all he wanted. 

There was the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones outside the castle and he scowled. Probably some idiot in need of a favor, wiling to make a deal they would later regret. He stayed by the window; they could come find him. The idea of entering unwelcome into someone’s home never seemed to daunt those heroic types.

Sure enough, a few minutes later the door creaked open and he reluctantly turned from his snowflake watching to see who it was. His heart almost stopped when he saw it was Belle. She looked as beautiful as always, with snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks flushed from the cold. He forced himself to stay by the window and struggled to keep his voice neutral when he spoke. 

“Belle. What brings you here?”

Belle smiled at him, that smile that caused his heart to beat too quickly.

“Hello Rumple! I came to see you.”

She slowly began to walk towards him and stopped a few feet away.

“Arthur asked me to marry him.”

Rumple felt like his world was crumbling around him, but he forced himself to ask, “So, should I be offering you my congratulations, dearie?”

Her eyes twinkled at that. “No, silly. I said no. I love someone else.”

But in his mind she had agreed to marry Arthur, and that was that, and so he said, “Well, he’s a good man and he will be-“ and then what she said caught up with him. “Wait, you said…no? You mean…” he asked hoarsely, the words catching in his throat, hardly able to get out. Did he dare hope?

“Yes,” she said softly, looking into his face, her eyes catching his. “I choose you. I had meant to come sooner, but I told him I would help him figure out the affairs of the holdfast and the kingdom before I left, and things were rather...disorganized, to put it kindly.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, just as softly. “The darkness is part of who I am.”

“We all have darkness in us,” she answered. “If the events of the past few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that there’s no clear line between hero and villain, the world isn’t black and white, and people are made up of good and bad. At the wedding, you did more than save me, you saved the kingdom and you spared Gaston’s life. Not what one would expect from the Dark One, but it showed there’s still goodness in you. It’s that goodness I believe in, and that goodness that makes me believe this can work.”

“I admire your optimism, but I’m afraid,” he said, looking away from her. “I pushed you away before out of fear, and I feel terrible about that. I hope you can forgive me. I don’t know if I can be the person you deserve. I’m no Prince Charming.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You saved me, you stood up for me when no one else would. I want to be with the man who listens to me, who actually cares what I think, who will discuss literature with me, and the only person I’ve ever met who can beat me at chess. But more than that, I want to be with the man I love.”

“Oh Belle,” he murmured back, allowing himself finally to smile back at her, finally allowing himself to hope. “I love you too, so much.” 

He took a tentative step towards her, and she towards him and then his arms were around her and he was holding her tight, his cheek against the top of her head. She smelled of forest and snow and something else, maybe lavender. He felt his chest fill with emotion and felt he could stand there with her forever. 

Belle wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his chest. She felt like she was home at last.

Rumple pulled back just enough so he could look at her face. “I never want to let you go.”

“I never want you to.” She looked up into his face. I want you to kiss me, she thought, but maybe you’re waiting for me to make the first move…I can do that.

She tentatively moved in for a kiss, and his mouth met hers. At first the kisses were gentle, chaste, but the ordeals they had both been through since they had parted lent a desperate air to things, and the kissing quickly grew more passionate.

As Rumple kissed along her jaw to her neck, Belle was tempted to pull him over to the table, but a part of her brain not completely fogged by desire reasoned that that would not be the most romantic place.

Instead she whispered in his ear, “Rumple, will you take me to bed?”

He pulled back from her slightly, his eyes dark with desire, his cheeks flushed, his breathing heavy. “Are you sure, my love?”

“Yes…better there than here, for the first time, at least,” she murmured back. 

Rumple laughed softly at that, and then swept her up in his arms, and proceeded to carry her upstairs, pausing only to kiss her. When they get to his room he gently put her on the bed and she pulled him down on top of her. 

Belle felt she had never been more ready for anything, but he took his time, kissing and teasing her. By the time he was inside her, she was already so close. It felt so right for them to be together, and looking into his eyes, Belle knew Rumple felt the same way.

Belle woke to bright sunlight streaking across the ceiling. Rumple was pressed against her back, one arm around her waist. She smiled, feeling so incredibly happy, and said, to no one in particular, “I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

She heard a sleepy chuckle from behind her. “And I love you, Belle.” And he pulled her closer.


End file.
